


Smith & Wesson

by RebaK1tten



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>** NON-CON & DISCUSSION OF RAPE **</p>
<p>Written for Comment Fic - for Aunt Zelda prompt Spencer/male Unsub, gunporn while Spencer's tied up. I'd prefer it if Spencer actually enjoys some of it, even though he knows he shouldn't. </p>
<p>So this turned dark and angsty and probably not porny enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smith & Wesson

The first thing Reid thinks when he regains consciousness is, “Oh, crap, not again.”  The second thing is, “Do not get killed.”

He’s tied to a wooden chair and blindfolded.  Which is probably a good thing, the girls who had been taken had been blindfolded and after the unsub was done with them, he let them go.  Not seeing the kidnapper is generally good.

Of course, the girls weren’t federal officers and none of them had been pistol whipped.  When Reid moves his eyes under the blindfold, pain shoots across his head and he can feel the dried blood flaking off his temple.  Okay, it’s dried, that means it’s been a couple of hours, so the team will be looking for him.  They had it narrowed down to three possibles and of course Reid lucked out with the right one.  But they know where he went and by now they know he’s missing.  So basically, he needs to stay smart, not piss this guy off, learn whatever he can, and not get killed while he’s waiting to be rescued.

He tries to move his arms, to see how he’s tied up.   His arms are attached to the wood arms of the chair, he thinks with duct tape.  His legs are also tied to the chair, around both his knees and ankles. He wiggles a little to see if he has his gun, which seems to be gone.

“Looking for this?” a deep voice whispers in his ear and Reid jumps a little, another pain shooting through his head.  The voice chuckles and Reid feels something cold run across his cheekbone.  He recognizes it: it’s his gun.  The unsub, Davis Crowley, rubs it across Reid’s lips and he can smell the metal and the gun oil.

“I don’t usually like these,” Crowley says.  “They’re certainly showy, but somehow they don’t get quite the same reaction as a knife.”  Reid knows that the girls who had been kidnapped had been raped repeatedly over several days and Crowley had constantly threatened them with knives of several different sizes.

He thinks about everything they know about their unsub.  He’s in his mid-40s, and was raised in Virginia; Reid recognizes the accent.  He’s a power assertive rapist, who wants control and enjoys humiliating his victims.  While he held them, he constantly threatened to kill them, but he’s kidnapped and let five women go. 

Reid is pulled out of his thoughts by the gun pushed almost gently into his mouth and the deep voice drawling, “You know…you’re kind of pretty.”

Well, that’s not expected, Reid thinks.  Their unsub gave no sign of being anything other than straight, but then again, kidnapping and humiliating a federal agent would have to be a thrill, given his psychopothy.  And frankly, since there’s a loaded revolver in his mouth, he’s got other things to worry about than sexual orientation.

While Reid certainly doesn’t want to be sexually assaulted, it’s far down on the list after not being killed, or having a traumatic brain injury, being dismembered, paralyzed or injected with drugs. 

Crowley pushes the gun further into his mouth and Reid gags a bit with the gun sight scraping the roof of his mouth.  Crowley laughs and removes the gun and rubs the barrel along Reid’s cheek and then over the gag on his eyes.  “Do you know why I like you blindfolded?”

Thinking what answer Crowley would like and the one that won’t get him into trouble, Reid says, “Because you don’t want me to know what you plan to do.  You want to keep me off guard and nervous.”

“You’re smart.  Are you nervous?  You know I’ve never killed anyone.  At least not so far.”   Reid feels the gun run down his chest and can hear the metal hit the plastic buttons as he runs the gun up and down his shirt.  “You’re probably expecting to be rescued, aren’t you?  Do you know where you are?  You were out for a while, I hit you hard, I’m afraid.  Your coworkers won’t know where you are now.”  He brushes the back of his hand against Reid’s cheek, chuckling when he jumps from the unexpected contact.  “Hmm.  You like this more?”  Crowley runs the gun over Reid’s mouth again, snickering when he winces.  “I thought you’d like something like this in your mouth, you look like it’s not your first time.”

Reid sits quietly and thinks other than the crude words, Crowley is starting to sound a little like Hotch.  Actually, like Hotch, when he’s had a couple of drinks and his slight southern accent comes out.  And how any sudden movement makes his head spin and he’d like nothing more than to go to sleep and wait to be rescued. 

Crowley runs the gun down Reid’s chest and then grabs Reid’s half-hard cock and squeezes.  “Well, I think you might be enjoying this more than you should, is that true, Agent?”

He gasps and tries to think of the best answer. ‘Your voice reminds me of Hotch,’ probably isn’t it.  “Fight or flight is a physical response that can create an erection in a man who isn’t sexually aroused.”

“So which is it?  Fight or flight?”

Reid doesn’t take a second to answer.  “Flight, if I have a choice.”   If not, sit and wait and be rescued, hopefully in one piece.

“If you don’t have a choice?” Crowley says grabbing Reid’s chin and pushing the gun back in Reid’s mouth, hard.  Reid gags and Crowley pulls the gun out just slightly, for just a second and then starts to move the gun in and out of his mouth.  He tries to remember to breathe out of his nose, but the gagging makes his nose run and he’s concentrating on not panicking.

“God, you do have a pretty mouth,” Crowley says and Reid hears him unzip his fly and hears Crowley start to stroke himself.  As his breathing increases, he starts muttering things Reid would rather not hear and Reid starts to worry about involuntary muscle contractions when Crowley orgasms.

He can’t stop Crowley from pushing the gun further back into his throat, ripping the roof of his mouth and bruising his lips.   Reid thinks of the one time that he and Hotch got drunk after a bad case and kissed in the hallway of a hotel in Alabama before Hotch stopped it and apologized repeatedly until Reid stormed away.   It’s been the fodder for many of his fantasies while in the shower and when he gets drunk and goes home with men who slightly resemble Hotch.  And he thinks about the gun going off and if it will be a painful way to die.

He hears Crowley’s breath quicken and then feels his orgasm splash on the front of his shirt.  At the same time Crowley pulls the gun out of his mouth, chipping a tooth and further bloodying his lip, but not firing.  Reid gasps, pulling air in his lungs.

Finally, Reid hears a familiar and welcome noise – the door upstairs kicked in, multiple people yelling “FBI!” and the thunder of boots down the stairs into the room where he’s being held.

Both Morgan and Hotch yell at Crowley to drop his weapon (Reid’s weapon) and Crowley yells something back and then there’s gunfire that nearly deafens Reid in the small room.

Hotch is suddenly next to him whispering, “Reid?  Reid, we’re here.  I’m going to take off your blindfold, shut your eyes for a second.”  The blindfold is off and Reid blinks into what seems to be a very bright room, but is actually a small, dank basement, where he’d originally gone to talk with their suspect.  Hotch is kneeling next to him on one side and Rossi is on the other.  Hotch takes out a handkerchief and gently wipes his eyes and snotty nose like he’s a child.  Reid can hear Crowley yelling about police brutality and how everything with everyone was consensual and Morgan tells him to shut up and calls for EMTs.

Hotch says, “Reid, we’re going to cut off the tape and get you to a hospital, okay?” 

Rossi takes a knife out of his pocket and starts working on the tape on one hand and Hotch starts with his own knife on the other. 

Reid nods and shuts his eyes while the room spins.  He can feel Hotch stop cutting the tape and when he opens his eyes, he sees Hotch looking at his shirt and his split lips and he says, “No, it wasn’t … it was my gun.  He used my gun.”

Hotch and Rossi are both silent for a minute, Hotch slightly more pale than before.  “I’m going to get your shirt off, okay?  I’m sorry, Reid.  It’s evidence.”  He helps Reid lean forward and Rossi quickly slits the shirt up his back and they both help him take it off, leaving him in a slightly sweat-damp t-shirt.  Rossi pulls an evidence bag out of somewhere, folds the shirt up, puts it inside the bag and puts it down somewhere.  Then both go back to cutting the tape off, Rossi silent and Hotch telling him what he’s doing every step as he’s working.

When the tape is all off, Rossi says he’ll get EMTs and heads for the stairs.  Reid says he can walk to the ambulance, but when he tries to stand the room tilts and Hotch gently sits him back down, saying, “Just wait Reid, they can come get you.”

“Hotch,” Reid croaks, “when this is done, you and I should go out.  Out to dinner.  Okay?”

“Sure, Reid,” Hotch replies, smiling slightly.  “That would be good, we’ll go to dinner when you’re better and can eat again.”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Reid says and shakes his head.  He has to grab Hotch’s arm to keep from falling out of the chair.   “Not dinner, Hotch.   Aaron.  Aaron, we should go out on a date.  We should go once and see if there’s anything.  I think that would be good.”

Hotch looks at him for a long minute and they hear the EMTs thump down the stairs with Rossi yelling instructions and Morgan trying to ask Rossi questions.  “Yes, Spencer.  Yes, when you’re better, we should do that.”


End file.
